{City of New Orléans}

Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin´ trains that have no names,
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.

(Refrain :)
Good morning America how are you?
Don´t you know me I´m your native son,
I´m the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I´ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

Dealin´ card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point ain´t no one keepin´ score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin´ ´neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father´s magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin´ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.

(Refrain)
Good morning America how are you?
Don´t you know me I´m your native son,
I´m the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I´ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.


Nighttime on The City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home, we´ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain´t heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again,
The passengers will please refrain
This train´s got the disappearing railroad blues.

(Refrain)
Good morning America how are you?
Don´t you know me I´m your native son,
I´m the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I´ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.